


Self-Preservation Instinct

by MycroftRH



Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: Blanket Permission, Brainwashing, Canon-Typical Torture, Fear, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Podfic Welcome, Whump
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-17
Updated: 2020-05-17
Packaged: 2021-03-02 21:00:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,121
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24233221
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MycroftRH/pseuds/MycroftRH
Summary: Rodney's always worked better under pressure - best when terrified for his life.  When the team is captured during a routine mission, their abductor tries to take advantage of that talent.  Rodney escapes, but the fear that their captor placed in his mind causes him to run from his own team.  After months of failed searching, they call in Jeannie Miller to help them hunt her brother down.  But he might not be the same when they find him.
Relationships: Rodney McKay & Jeannie Miller, Rodney McKay & John Sheppard
Comments: 3
Kudos: 15





	Self-Preservation Instinct

**Author's Note:**

  * For [RachaelJurassic](https://archiveofourown.org/users/RachaelJurassic/gifts).



> This was written... or rather, is being written.. for a Stargate Fanfic Exchange, for RachaelJurassic. Tragically, what was intended to be a 700-word-or-so oneshot ballooned into six chapters. I have most of them written, but unfortunately one of the chapters I'm missing is number two. I figured it's better to post it as is than to, well, not. Other chapters will be up ASAP. Should be by the end of May 18th, Rao willing.
> 
> This is set in some sort of nebulous timeframe in which Miller’s Crossing has happened and Sam’s running Atlantis, but those are the only points I’m willing to nail down. If, say, a character shows up who should be deceased at that point in canon timeline, that’s just something we’re all going to have to live with. (That's not a hint/spoiler, just a disclaimer.)

“It’s been five months, nine days, and seventeen hours since Rodney McKay disappeared.”

That’d probably be a typical opening line. But John doesn’t know how long it’s been, actually. If he checked what Earth-standard month this was, he’d know how many months, but that’s about the closest he can get. Days and months get messy as it is, when you’re hopping between planets with different rotation rates and lunar cycles and so on and so forth. And John’s been taking advantage. If he lets it all wash together, become one mass of make nice with aliens - get shot by aliens - shoot at aliens - mortal peril - coffee - stare at ceiling, then it’s basically the same as if Rodney went missing yesterday.

Basically.

* * *

“Look, coward is a very strong word,” Rodney says. More of a whine, really. “I just have a healthy sense of self-preservation. Unlike some people.” He’s holding his head so high that he almost trips on a root as he walks.

“Self-preservation’s a pretty lizard-brain instinct, you know,” John says, suppressing a grin. “I would’ve thought you’d evolved beyond that.”

Rodney stops in the middle of the clearing to cross his arms over his chest. “This highly evolved brain has immense value to the human race and all other sapient life. I’m concerned with the greater good, here.”

“Right. And the mouse was a threat to your highly evolved brain how, exactly?”

“It wasn’t a mouse!” Rodney’s voice is almost as high-pitched as it had been when the mouse ran over his foot. “It was a, a small, an alien creature, it – look, you were almost killed by a bug, okay? Who knows what that thing could have done? It had very sharp teeth!”

“Yeah, that’s a good point, actually. Y’know, it could have been carrying something, too. I’ve heard rats are one of the most lethal animals in history thanks to the Black Plague.”

Rodney yelps and stumbles backwards like he’s trying to run away from his own feet. “Oh, god, you’re right!” He flaps his hands about near his shins, looking torn between wanting to yank his boots off and wanting to keep his hands as far from them as possible. “Teyla, are you carrying – I need Purell, quickly – “

“Rodney,” Teyla starts, indulgent amusement coloring her patented placating-hostile-aliens-and-Rodney voice, “I do not think you need to be concerned about – “

A red blast streaks past her ear. “Get down!” John yells as the air is seared by red bolts from all directions. Ronon and Teyla are already down scrambling for the cover of nearby trees. Rodney’s still standing, frozen, bent halfway over, his hands in mid-flap. John tackles him to the ground and covers him with his body. The whine of the blasts is deafening for a few seconds and then suddenly stops. Rodney blinks up at John.

“Stay down.” The voice is cool and mechanical. “Throw your weapons away from yourselves.”

Ronon yells back. “Like hell, we will.”

A single blast whistles towards them and John’s eyes widen as it shoots right through the few inches of space between his face and Rodney’s. Rodney makes a strangled noise and jerks under him.

“Okay!” John shouts. “Okay, we’re doing it! Don’t shoot! We’re cooperating.” He shoves his P-90 away then unbuckles both his sidearm and Rodney’s and tosses them to the side. “Do it, Ronon.”

Ronon growls, but John hears thuds as more weapons are thrown to the ground.

The metallic voice speaks again. “All of them.” Another growl, then several more thumps. “Rodney McKay. Secure your guards. Use these.”

“My – my guards?” Three sets of what look like very high-tech handcuffs land next to Rodney’s head. John can’t see where they were thrown from.

“I’m pretty sure he means us, Rodney,” John says, finally getting up off of Rodney. He moves slowly, makes sure it doesn’t look like he’s trying to stand up or reach for a weapon.

“I got that,” Rodney snaps. He sits up and grabs for the cuffs. They look heavy. He fumbles with them for a moment, then seems to figure out how they work. John holds out his hands, wrists a few inches apart. Rodney looks at him, eyebrows raised, healthy self-preservation in his wide eyes. John nods.

Rodney places the cuffs around John’s wrists then presses a button. They snap shut and John grunts and falls forward. It’s like they’re so heavy they’re dragging his whole body to the ground, even though he just saw Rodney holding them without much trouble. John’s back and arms tense almost to trembling trying to hold up his weight. Rodney reaches for his shoulders.

“I’m fine.” John can hear the strain in his own voice. “Cuff the others.” He tries to convey “it’s okay, I’ll get us out of this, you don’t need to worry about us, you'll be safe, it’ll be fine” with his eyes, but he gets the feeling it doesn’t work.

John hears two clacks behind him, each followed by a gasp, as Rodney cuffs Ronon and Teyla.

“Thank you, Rodney McKay.” The voice starts metallic but shifts into human as a silver shimmer ripples at the other side of the clearing. A middle-aged woman is revealed as the shimmer fades. Her greying hair is pulled back in tight, complicated braids. She’s wearing loose, cream-toned clothing. Fabric, not leather or body armor, and it doesn’t look like something she could fight in. But her belt has quite a few things attached to it, and one of them is definitely a gun.

She’s holding some sort of metal device in her left hand. She does something to it with her right hand and shimmers circle the clearing. A dozen metal things on tripods appear surrounding them.

Rodney makes a frustrated noise - it's the one that indicates contempt for his own past idiocy. "Holograms and lasers. None of that blaster fire was real."

"Correct, Rodney McKay," the woman says. She pulls the gun from her belt. "This, however, is very real." She fires it towards John. He falls to the ground trying to jump away with the cuffs on and this time when the blast hits the dirt it explodes into the air and gravel stings against his face. He realizes none of the blasts had actually hit the ground before. Stupid. He should have seen that.

"Okay, stop!" Rodney steps towards the woman, voice shrill, hands held out. "What do you want? Are we hostages for Atlantis technology? Because if we are I can make sure you get the very best stuff. Just don't hurt any of us."

"You are a hostage for your mind, Rodney McKay. And your guards are hostage for you."

Oh. This is going to be one of _those_ missions.


End file.
